Dark Games

Chapter Two

Cody woke in stages. He couldn't say when he came to the realisation he wasn't in his own bed, nor when he first noticed the cuff around his ankle, limiting his movement. He didn't know if there had been moments of terror in his groggiest states, as the reality of his situation trickled over him. All he could say is that at some point he became aware of the fear he should be feeling. Clarity set in after that.

Instead of fear, he felt a sick sense of humour. He wasn't in a ditch somewhere, missing a kidney. No, he was on a comfortable mattress, under a soft sheet and thin blanket, in a warm room. A small lamp barely lit the room. It was a warm and comforting glow. The entire room was comforting, designed to reassure and limit panic.

Of course, it wasn't the soft lighting or comfortable bed that was keeping the fear at bay. It was the lingering drugs in his system, and Cody was fully aware of that. At some point they would be gone, and then that sick humour would turn to horror. The thought of that building fear, kept back by the very same drug that had allowed the situation that caused the fear, made him laugh. It was silent, more of a random chest spasm than actual laughter. It continued until his chest ached, and the fear begun to emerge, replacing the laughter with terrified sobs.

He was wary of keeping sound to a minimum. Something about the air made him think he was in a done-up basement. The walls were painted and appeared smooth, though their colour was distorted by the orange light of the lamp. He was sure the floor was carpeted, although he couldn't recall looking at the floor when he woke up.

Slowly curiosity won over the fear, and he shifted, leaning over the bed to check the floor. It was carpeted. He could remember the feel of that carpet beneath his feet, a warm hand at his back, leading him. The carpet turned cold and hard. Harsh lighting that made his eyes ache. Running water.

Had he been to the bathroom while drugged? It was hard to remember, and the more he pushed those traces, the further from his grasp they felt. Still, he persisted, hunting down the memories lost to a drug haze, until he fell back asleep.

~_~

The moment he woke, he knew there was something different. He clenched his eyes against the light and groaned. His head hurt, and he realised he'd overslept. His face felt as if there was a thin line of space between the skin and the muscle. It was not a new sensation for him, having overslept plenty of times in the past. Still, it was not a pleasant one. He knew the best thing to do would be to get up, splash his face with cold water, and get something to eat, but he had no motivation to do any of that.

"Good morning Cody."

Cody opened his eyes slowly. There was nothing inherently unpleasant about the voice, but it still made his stomach revolt. The tone was lightly mocking, but it was less anything about the voice or the tone, and more about its existence.

Sensations of memories returned to him. Laughing until he cried was the most vivid among them, but the knowledge those memories brought was the most chilling. He had thought, back in that moment of waking, that he had attained clarity from the drugs. Now, he realised he had still been heavily sedated. There were so many questions he hadn't even thought of. Some of them he could answer now, but most of them remained unknown.

"You've been sleeping an awfully long time."

The tone was a mimicry of friendliness. Within a couple of seconds, that voice turned Cody's fear into anger, and then into the understanding that he couldn't afford either emotion. This was a matter of survival, and he needed to remain calm, calculating, and to not do anything to piss off the man with the power.

Cody sat up, although the limitations of the ankle cuff meant that he had to sit about halfway down the bed. He faced the man who he still didn't know the name of. He was dressed in beige chinos and a long-sleeved, black V-neck with showed off a lightly muscled body. It was comparable to a swimmer's or a dancer's build. He sat comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, upper body leaning against the back of the chair, one hand in his lap, the other propping his head up, the elbow resting on the arm of the chair.